


Just Enough, But Not Enough

by mrsmcdarbear



Category: The 100 (TV)
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/M, Fluff, Love Confessions, Marriage Proposal, POV Clarke Griffin
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2017-08-01
Updated: 2017-08-01
Packaged: 2018-12-09 14:38:32
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,173
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/11671092
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/mrsmcdarbear/pseuds/mrsmcdarbear
Summary: “So—what? Is this you defending my honor?”Bellamy snorts, shaking his head. “You don’t need me for that,” he smirks, looking her up and down, lighting her nerves on fire. “We’re already living together, Clarke. Everyone thinks we’re together. All we have to do is stop correcting them.”“Wait,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You want everyone to believe it’s true, like everyone here. Not just the Ice Nation.”He rolls his eyes. “I don’t know why you’re making such a big deal about it. Nothing would change—not really.”“Except we’d be married,” she says wry.“Technically.”





	Just Enough, But Not Enough

They’re leaning against the rover, sharing an apple, back and forth, discussing their plans for the day when Bellamy says, “We should get married,” in the same tone he’d use if they were talking about what’s for dinner.

Clarke chokes mid-bite, sputtering and coughing with tears in her eyes.

He pulls her against him, patting her back. “Are you all – “

“What? What did you just say?”

Clarke’s been trying to figure out how to progress their relationship into something more for months. Sometimes she imagines grabbing him and kissing him in the middle of camp—sometimes it’s when they’re alone at night, sharing the space of his bed—sometimes she pounces him in the forest and they fuck against a tree, hard and fast, like there's not enough time in the world.

None of these hypothetical scenarios includes a marriage proposal before she's even had a chance to drink her morning cup of coffee.

He blinks at her, eyes wide, like he’s the one in shock.  His face is almost laughable. Under different circumstances, she’d tease him about it, but she’s too caught up in his words, tangling around her lungs, like vines, squeezing tight, depriving her of oxygen.

“I said we should get married,” he says flat.

She lets out a puff of air and narrows her eyes into slits. “This is a joke, right? You’re messing with me.”

“No,” he shrugs. “Better me than some stranger who only wants you for an alliance,” he says, glaring over her shoulder.

Oh. _Oh._

“Is that what this is about? Roan was just making a joke, he wasn’t serious.”

“It was a joke about something serious, Clarke. It’s a real possibility.”

Clarke swallows, studying him as he takes the apple from her and bites it to the core, tossing it over his shoulder, like it's nothing.

“So—what? Is this you defending my honor?”

Bellamy snorts, shaking his head. “You don’t need me for that,” he smirks, looking her up and down, lighting her nerves on fire. “We’re already living together, Clarke. Everyone thinks we’re together. All we have to do is stop correcting them.”

_Oh my god._

“Wait,” she says, pinching the bridge of her nose. “You want everyone to believe it’s true, like everyone _here_. Not just the Ice Nation.”

He rolls his eyes. “I don’t know what you’re making such a big deal about. Nothing would change—not really.”

“Except we’d be married,” she says wry.

“Technically.”

Okay. Clarke doesn’t necessarily consider herself a romantic. She doesn’t expect him to _court_ her into his bed with flowers, wine, and promises of forever, but this—this is just too much—and not enough.

“So, just so we’re clear. You want to marry me, so I wont have to marry someone else in this imaginary scenario you've conjured up in your head. That’s the only reason.”

He shrugs.

“No.”

“What?”

“I said no.”

“Why the hell not?” he barks, crossing his arms, looming over her.

She opens and closes her mouth, like she can’t believe she needs to explain herself. How could he not get it?

“I’m not going to let you marry me as a _favor_ , Bellamy,” she spits through her teeth. “I think I deserve more than that.”

She pointedly turns herself away from him, so she doesn’t have to look at his face after she says it. They survey the camp in silence and Clarke thinks that’s the end of this nonsense. They’ll go back to talking about normal, mundane things, and it’ll be like this conversation never happened.

And then, “Okay, yeah. You do.”

She doesn’t say anything. She already knows.

“I’m in love with you.”

She snaps her head towards him, gaping. He stares at her, honest and searching. Something breaks in her chest, blooming beneath her rib cage, filling her with hope.

Maybe she doesn’t know everything. Maybe she has no fucking clue.

“You love me?” she whispers, testing the words on her tongue, savoring the taste.

He ducks his head. The tips of his ears flush pink. “Yeah,” he says gentle. “I thought you knew.”

“What—why—how would I know that?” she sputters.

“I thought it was obvious. Everyone knows. I just assumed—” he sighs, rubbing his hand over his face. “Look I know—I know you don’t feel the same. It’s okay, I’m not asking for that. I just—if you’re going to be forced into marrying someone, it should at least be someone who loves you and wants to take care of you. Not some stranger who’s going to expect you to fuck him after, or bear his children. I don’t want—" He pauses, taking a breath. "I don’t _need_ that. I need you. Just _this_ ,” he says soft, gesturing between them. “This is enough.”

“No it isn’t,” she snaps.

“Clarke—” he says, looking at her like she just crushed his heart with her fist.

“You idiot,” she huffs, shoving his chest, pushing his back against the rover. “You stupid idiot.”

“Hey, whoa—Princess—”

“What about you, huh? What do you think you deserve? Sacrificing your happiness to someone who you don’t even think loves you? You’re not a damn martyr, Bellamy. You don’t get to do that!”

“I’m sorry, okay? I shouldn’t have—”

“I love you too, you know? How could you not know?”

“I—wait, what?”

“I’m in love with you. You stupid, altruistic, oblivious piece of—”

He kisses her. Cups her face and licks into her mouth. She drags him closer, clutching his jacket like a lifeline. He pulls back just enough to speak, forehead still pressed against hers as they take turns breathing the other's air.

“Marry me,” he whispers, stroking her cheek.

“Bellamy,” she huffs, teasing and breathless. “You don’t need to marry me to keep me safe. I’m not going to sell myself off for some hypothetical peace treaty.”

“Just—marry me,” he pleads and Clarke freezes—caught under his lingering gaze, like a current dragging her to the bottom of his heart. “Will you? Not because I can’t stand the thought of you being with someone else. Just, marry me, because you love me—because you’re my partner, because you want more than _this_ —because whatever the fuck we’ve been doing for the past year is not enough.”

“Bell—”

“I want the rest, Clarke. I want come home to you and make love to you in our bed, until you can’t fucking walk without feeling me inside you. Fuck, I want your kids. I want all of that, okay? I always have.”

“Yes.”

"Yeah?" he says, smiling bright like he can't believe she means it.

At some point they're going to work on their compulsive need to doubt themselves. They deserve this. The ground owes it to them.

"Yes, Bellamy. A million times yes."

He ducks his head to kiss her cheek. "Thank God. That was about to be really awkward if you said no after that speech."

"You're an idiot."

"You're into it."

"Yeah," she smiles, tilting her head to catch his eyes. "I am."


End file.
